Spice for Uruk

[Lucien Lockwood]

In the deep desert the only thing that keeps you alive is water. As the stinging sun beat down upon the vast dunes and the rolling wind cast the sand into the air, a lone traveler’s irregular footsteps marred their way through the shifting sands. His face hidden by a head scarf, the only thing poking through the wrapped fabric were a black pair of goggles. A nearby thumper brought the attention of the man away from his forced erratic pacing. He looked as best he could through the mid-day sun at the rocky outcropping he was heading for, then back at the rhythmic thumping behind him. Yellow lightning crackled through the air as Lucien set off into a dead sprint toward his intended location.

The ground buckled around him as more crackling electricity sparked through the air. Lucien hoped he could make it to the edge of the outcropping before the worm showed up. Lest he be lunch for something much bigger than he was and much more valuable to the people he was trying to find. He had only heard rumors and whispers about the Fremen people. It was through them that he hoped to partake in spice mélange and acquire some to barter with in Uruk for a place to stay. However, if the rumors were true, he would have to prove himself worthy of their trust. Something Lucien was not quite sure he could do. As he neared the edge of the rocky outcropping a massive sand worm burst forth from the ground one hundred yards behind him and roared its existence to the world.

Diving onto the jagged rocks, Lucien clambered his way into one of the crevices’ just as the giant worm slammed itself against the stone. The young werewolf fought to unravel the cloth around the blade attached to his back but stopped as another thumper began to sound in the distance. As quickly as it had arrived the worm retreated into the desert and was gone without a trace. Grasping onto a nearby ledge Lucien pulled himself from the crevice he had fallen into and climbed his way down onto a flat plateau. Taking a seat against the rocks the man pulled up the nozzle from his chest plate and took a drink from the water in his still suit. Stowing the tubing once more he removed his scarf only to find a bone kris at his throat. Somehow, they had snuck up on him, probably through the howling wind.

“You run faster than any man we’ve trapped that way.” It was a woman’s voice.

“Maybe I’m just fast.” Lucien replied, on edge.

“Well you’re a fool to use any kind of sword like that out here.” She probed the tangled cloth with her kris knife.

“The cloth you used to protect the blade from the sand just killed you, outsider.”

Her eyes were blue.

Lucien dare not look away from the woman as she walked around him, surveying him for weakness.

“What do you think Vincent? Shall we let this one live?” She asked.

Lucien suddenly became aware that he had indeed been surrounded. His life was in their hands and he was positive they would kill him on the spot if he were to reveal his primary goal. The man had to think on his feet.

“I’m a wayward traveler seeking enlightenment. The man who took the last of my money and provided me with this still suit told me legends of a great people who thrived in the deep desert.” Lucien lied, but only partly.

“You wear your suit in desert fashion. Who taught you this?” This time Vincent spoke up.

“No one. It seemed the proper way. Try as I could the old man who sold me the suit would not show me how to wear it.”


Vincent pondered the situation before looking out into the blistering desert. “A storm approaches. We take him with us. If he proves worthless, we can at least use his water.”

This response garnered a laugh from some of the men. Lucien was quickly mustered to his feet and shoved forward into a line of people that proceeded around the rock outcropping. He wrapped his head once more as the dust kicked up with the wind and placed his breather into his nose as they set off into the heart of the sandstorm. It was not long before the wind was howling and Lucien could barely see the person in front of him, but he would get a reaffirming shove in the right direction every time he would break pace. They marched for what felt like days before coming to another large outcrop of mountainous terrain. Soon they were walking on stone and…hand carved stairs?

Stairs that led into the mountain and beneath the ground. Howling sand filled wind gave way to damp cool drafts of air. Lucien removed his head scarf, shaking the loose sand from his black hair. Pulling up his goggles he let his eyes adjust to the darker environment as he was led down into the mountain, an outline of his eyewear apparent on his face. Shaking the dust from his beard, Lucien was led into an assembly area where he was immediately assaulted in the stomach by a fist. Vincent had struck the blow which sent the werewolf doubling over and to the floor.

“Alright. Let us see what you can do.” The young man said, his blue eyes looking down at the fallen Lucien.

With a gruff roar Lucien tackled the younger man just as he drew his own kris knife. They collapsed into a heap on the floor the two of them fighting for control of the knife hand. Striking Vincent square in the jaw with a left hook, Lucien took control of his knife hand and knocked the blade free sending it scattering across the floor. Vincent planted a foot square to Lucien’s chest and pushed him back as the younger man attempted to get to his feet. The woman had been right, there was no way to draw his sword. It sat wrapped beneath the cloth and attached securely to his back…completely useless.

With another low growl the two men collided against each other. Lucien led with his left shoulder, forcing his way into Vincent’s guard. Grasping the man’s left shoulder, the werewolf planted a first strike upon the bridge of his nose before kicking his assailant away to the floor.

“Enough!” An older man held up his hand which led Lucien to drop his guard.

Vincent spat out a mouth full of blood and stood up, his broken nose a gift from the werewolf newcomer.

“You show us you know how to fight. You also show us you do not yet understand the desert. If you truly seek to find your way, we will teach you so that even you can survive the deepest of desert.”

Lucien bowed his head as was traditional of people in Khitai. “Thank you. You’ll find I’m an eager student.”

“My name is Stilgar. What is yours?” The older man spoke with authority.

“I am Lucien.” The werewolf replied.

“Lucien. That is your name to the outside world. If you wish to be one of us, you must pick a name that we may call you in private.”

Lucien pondered this for a second before arriving at his choice.

“Call me Sima’a.”

 

[Lucien Lockwood]

It had been six months since the werewolf had fallen in with the Fremen. He had gotten nowhere closer to obtaining a sample of the mind-altering spice mélange through diplomatic means. Lucien had, however, managed to steal and hide a supply of it in his quarters. He need only find a window to slip out into the desert and disappear. After weeks of waiting the werewolf had finally found his window. During the cover of night and a rather violent sandstorm. Wind howled through the hollow halls of the mountain as Lucien snuck his way to the entrance. Tying his scarf tight around his head and securing his goggles the man exited the underground compound into the violent sandstorm that raked itself across the area of desert the Fremen had called home.

“TRAITOR!” Vincent shouted through the howling wind.

Lucien turned to see the Fremen man standing behind him. He must have been following all night.

“I knew you were trouble. I should have cut your throat when we first met.”

“I don’t want to fight you, Vincent. Just let me go.”

“Enough! This time I’ll be sure to kill you.”

It was tempting to draw his sword, but the werewolf felt a sense of honor here. He had stolen from them; they deserved the respect of a fair fight.

Drawing his kris knife alongside Vincent the werewolf closed the gap and leapt from one of the stones, knife leading the way. Vincent feigned left and let Lucien pass him. Before the Fremen warrior could take advantage of the opening he had been kicked in the side. Bouncing backward in his stance Vincent gritted his teeth as Lucien turned around to face his opponent. The two closed the distance and locked into combat. The werewolf was significantly outmatched with a knife. If it were not for his combat training, he would have already died.

“I WILL KILL YOU!” Vincent screamed into the howling wind.

The man attacked wildly, nearly driving his knife into Lucien’s side. With his own howl Lucien threw his knife and rotated on his feet, drawing his sword in one fluid motion. The blade came down on Vincent’s neck removing his head from his shoulders. The wind concentrated the arterial spray into a fine mist.

So much for honor.

Sheathing his sword on his back once again, the werewolf took Vincent’s knife and sheathed it in his own holster.

“Stop!” A woman’s voice called.

It was too late. Lucien was already sprinting into the night; his tracks being immediately destroyed by the storm. Unclasping the thumper from his back he jammed it into the ground and started it up. It was at this time he used some of his inherent wolf strength and began sprinting west as fast as he could.

***​

After what felt like days, Lucien managed to punch his way through the sandstorm and exited the hellish landscape that had been his home for the last few hours. The burning sun welcomed him into its’ embrace and immediately the man missed the howling wind. The temperature in the deep desert could easily exceed triple digits. Lucien continued west, his course unchanged for several days. He had stopped to make camp only during the dead of night, only resting for a few hours before heading out again. His field rations were running low, and Vincent had managed to tear the still suit, so the water collection system was compromised. Lucien had at most a few days of water rations left before he’d run out. He had to get out of the desert. Taking the package of spice from his backpack, he opened the packaging and broke took out a portion of spice.

“Time to see if it’s real.” The werewolf mused, returning the package to his backpack.

Putting the drug into his mouth the man felt it dissolve in his mouth before being swallowed down whole. At first Lucien felt disappointed, until something made him turn around. To his surprise he was looking back at himself. Images assaulted his mind. A red vehicle. A group of raiders driving mechanized horses. The werewolf fell to his knees and began to crawl his way through the sand. His mind was screaming with an influx of knowledge. It could barely keep up. A roaring noise pierced through his consciousness until, eventually, he collapsed into the sand.

***​

The roar of his Crinos form woke the sleeping werewolf from his slumber. He roused to find himself beneath a tent and stripped of gear. His head was pounding, his vision blurry from the pain.

Shit.

The image of him recovering his backpack from a nearby tent seared through his mind. As if instinctually knowing where to look, Lucien got to his feet and snuck his way over. Whoever had recovered him from the deep desert had taken them to a makeshift tent colony where raiders would make their home in the desert. He could see various people roaming around, a plethora of vehicles parked in different locations. His captors had left him unbound. They must have believed him to be dead. Lucien took hold of his backpack and secured it to his person, once making sure that the spice had been left in its’ hiding place.

The werewolf sighed in relief. They had not found it. The rest of his gear was nowhere to be found. They must have disposed of his sword. Reaching down to his thigh he felt the absence of Vincent’s knife. Rummaging around the storage tent he found a crude knife he could make use of. Exiting the tent, he looked side to side to make sure no one was looking before he began creeping his way through the camp.

Another image seared its way through his mind causing the werewolf to stumble and fall to one knee. He saw himself getting into a red car and taking off north. It did not take long before Lucien found the car in his vision. Ducking behind another vehicle the soldier eyed the two men standing by his mark. They laughed and smoked on some inhalant that smelled a lot like something from his past that the guards used to smoke to relax. Making his move he approached the man on the right and covered his mouth before driving the knife through the back of his neck. Removing the blade Lucien side stepped, knocking the second man to ground before pulling him by his leg. Driving the blade into his opponents throat the werewolf ripped it out and showered the sand with blood.

The next step was going to alert the entire camp. Whatever the spice did to him, he was getting images of how he was supposed to escape. There would be time to analyze the importance of it later. For now, the fleeing werewolf needed to get away. Opening the door to the 2-door car the two men were standing by he slipped into the driver seat and took a moment to examine the interior. Early on during his time in Mesa Roja, Lucien had been a wheelman for one of the raider clans. After a falling out he was forcefully expelled and had to find new work. If he could make his way to that encampment, he might find refuge before heading to Uruk. Taking a map from the passenger seat he opened it up and began examining the various scribbling. Uruk was in the northwest and the encampment he was currently in sat extremely far to the south in the deep desert. He needed to head north to reach his old home and the hopeful safety of his old comrades. Starting the engine, the loud muscle car roared into life. Just like Lucien had expected this alerted the entire camp to his presence and before long people were running to him. Shifting the vehicle into first he rolled the steering wheel to the left and took off. Driving straight through a series of tents and bodies, the werewolf proceeded into the desert on the northward bearing.

It wasn’t going to be that easy though. Soon he heard the hooting and hollering of raiders giving chase. Tapping the fuel gauge with his finger, the fleeing werewolf took stock of the fuel left in car.

Half a tank. Great.

Shifting again, Lucien pressed the accelerator to the floor.

 

[Lucien Lockwood]

Lucien dropped the car into 4th gear and slammed on the accelerator as he crested a dune. He had managed to put a considerable distance between him and the savages following him. Good thing too, the fuel light was on, and he was certain that a v8 of this size ate its fair share of fuel. Everything was fine until a woman threw herself into his path forcing the werewolf to down shift rapidly and slam on the brakes. Pulling the emergency brake, he twisted the wheel and came skidding to a stop just in time to avoid hitting the woman. She had a sword with red runes on it in one hand. She knocked on his passenger window, forcing Lucien to roll it down.

“Are you fucking crazy?” He posed.

“Give me a ride.”

He gave her a once over, noticing a pendant between her bosoms.

“What trouble are you in, Rune Warden?” He asked.

“How did you-“

“I don’t have time for this. Get in.” He said reaching over and opening the passenger door.

As soon as the door was secure again, he floored the gas pedal and shifted the car into gear taking off north again. The woman stowed her sword across their laps making Lucien look down momentarily before returning his eyes to the open desert.

“Talk, warden.” The werewolf demanded as he kept his eyes on the fuel gauge.

“Do you have comms?” She asked directly.

“I...what?”

“Do you have comms!?” She sounded frantic now.

“Yes. Yes! I have a phone. It’s in- Hey!” She had already begun digging through his bag.

Taking the cellphone, she punched in a series of numbers and put the receiver to her ear.

“Charlie. Its Imogen. Lock onto this signal and send a rig.” She eyed the dashboard. “Bring fuel too.”

The voice on the other end spoke a few words before hanging up. She returned the phone from where she got it. Upon noticing Lucien was looking at her she fluidly drew a knife from her belt and held it to his throat.

“Eyes on the road.”

With a solemn nod the werewolf downshifted as the engine sputtered and died just as they crested a dune.

“Shit.” The fleeing soldier said as they coasted down the giant sand dune.

As they came to a stop the man sighed with relief as his passenger removed the blade from his neck. Luck had finally gone in his favor. The convoy that had been pursuing them rode by without seeing them. Breathing another sigh of relief Lucien turned off the ignition and pocketed the keys.

“So…Imogen.” He started, leaning back into his seat.

“Warden Gallant to you, drifter. I know who you are. Malaki is going to love that his troubled getaway driver just happened to rescue me.”

Fuck

“You’re with Malakai? How’s that price on my head?” He asked.

“Looking good right about now. Keep your eyes to yourself,” She said, pulling her shirt closed over her bosom.

“I’m not even-“ He said defensively.

“Enough!” She demanded.

With a sigh, Lucien opened his door and got out of the car. Taking his bag from the seat he draped it across his torso and secured the bottom of it to his belt. Shutting the door, he began to walk up the nearest dune in the direction he had been driving. It didn’t take long before Imogen was outside of the vehicle in protest.

“Where are you going!?” She asked sounding worried.

“You obviously have help coming and the car is useless to me now. I’m heading north.” He said without stopping.

“S-stop! What if the convoy comes back! L-Lucien is your name right? Please!” She sounded increasingly worried.

Stopping his saunter up the dune he turned on his feet and looked down at her with his yellow eyes. Contemplating the situation for a moment he sighed and began to make his way back toward the car.

“Yes. My name is Lucien. Lucien Lockwood.”

The werewolf went to the trunk of the car and unlocked it to see what it held. His sword was lost to him, but there had been a machete hidden beneath some various engine parts. Placing it on the roof the car he shut the trunk and took his canteen from his pouch. Unscrewing the cap, he was about to take a drink before he remembered himself. Holding out the canteen he offered it to the woman he had just saved. Turning red with embarrassment she rounded the car and took the water, taking a long drink.

“Careful. It’s all I have.” It was too late; she had drunk it all.

“I’m sorry!” She said with a slight burp, handing it back to him.

He smiled. “It’s fine.”

His stillsuit had been torn hours ago and all his backup water had bled into the desert sand. They were completely out of water and the day was just now moving into the afternoon hours.

“I-I’m new to field work.” She explained nervously.

“That certainly explains a few things.” He said putting his canteen back into its place on his bag.

“Have a seat by the trunk and try to relax. I’ll keep watch.” Lucien said leaning on the side of the car.

“C-can you help me?” She asked.

He turned and raised an eyebrow at her. She had exposed the chain mail on her back where it was tied together.

“Yeah. Hold still.” He said moving over to her.

As he reached to touch her, she reeled back.

“I won’t hurt you, Miss Gallant. However, I need to undo the straps on the armor or you’re going to cook in it.”

She nodded, obviously holding back tears. Turning her around the werewolf swiftly undid the lacing to her armor. Spinning her around he pulled the cord and through the front plate and dropped the steel chain to the ground. She had clenched her eyes shut and had bit her lip in worry. She was very pretty, and he caught himself admiring her face when she opened her eyes and met his gaze. She stepped back sharply and hugged her stomach, her face beet red.

“Thank you, Mr. Lockwood.”

“My pleasure, miss.” He said with a smile before picking up the loose chainmail and placing it on the trunk of the car.

What a day.

 

[Lucien Lockwood]

It had passed into the late noon hours, but the sun was still beating down on the two stranded survivors of the car chase that had driven Lucien into the deep desert. The werewolf had stripped most of the loose fabric from his armor and cloak and using some scrap metal from the trunk had erected a makeshift tent for his Rune Warden passenger. His canine abilities would keep him on his feet, but Imogen had begun showing the signs of dehydration. She was huddled under the tent, hugging her knees close to her bosom.

He had opened one of his MRE’s and removed the contents. Tearing open the Salisbury steak main course he took the fork provided and stirred it up a bit before adding the small amount of water provided. Continuing to stir it into something that was edible he knelt to Imogen and handed her the MRE. She looked at him and then at the food.

“Eat something. We need to keep our strength in this heat.” He explained.

She turned beet red and took the package of food graciously, tearing off a piece with her fork taking a bite. Lucien prepared his meal the same way, but instead of adding the water he knelt again and handed the woman the water packet.

“Drink this. It isn’t much, but it’ll help a little.” He said with a smile.

Imogen took the water and tore open the packet, sucking out its contents with a ravenous intent.

She is thirsty. Dammit. Just hang on.

With a sigh he sat against the rear wheel of the car and began eating his own MRE. His was beef ravioli and it was a little salty without the water ration, but he didn’t care. He felt a sense of responsibility for Imogen’s safety. Plus Malakai would execute him if he let a Warden under his care die. The sound of engines made him toss the MRE and get to his feet, peaking over the hot car. Three vehicles had parked at the top of the dunes and five men begun a slow descent into the crevice Lucien had parked in. Imogen had exited the tent and rushed over to Lucien.

Exiting from their vehicles the savage brutes brandished their various weapons and growled in delight.

“Looks like meat is back on the menu boys!” One of them said with a laugh.

His comment made Imogen release a quiet meep sound and grip Lucien’s armor in concern.

“Stay here.” He whispered, taking the woman’s sword from the car.

Tossing it to his right hand he took the machete in his left and rounded the car. The sun burnt werewolf stood at the bottom of the embankment as the five men approached him. With one quick throw he managed to embed the machete into the farthest target, the man dropped to the ground holding the blade.

One.

The other four charged him, angrily growling.

“You’ll pay for that!”

Lucien rushed forward, sword in hand, slicing into the nearest bandit. The red runes on the blade blazed with life at the taste of blood. A bandit to his left raised his arm to bring a knife into the Werewolf’s guard, but Lucien caught his hand and immediately severed at the elbow with Imogen’s blade, kicking the man to the ground and driving the sword into his sternum.

Three

The leader snarled and leapt forward with a blade of his own. Deflecting his strike, Lucien riposted missing his mark. The other bandit had made a move towards Imogen who shrieked and fled from the car only to be grabbed by her hair and dragged back towards the vehicles at the top of the dune.

“L-Lucien!” She yelped, causing the bandit to hit her. “Quiet, food!”

The Werewolf knew the sword he was wielding was of superior quality. As the bandit leader brought his blade up to deflect, Lucien’s irises turned red, and his blade cut through his opponents. With a follow up slash, he cut into the man’s throat. Moving to the remaining bandit he stopped short when he noticed a blade to Imogen’s throat.

“Let her go.” He ordered, holding the rune blade out in front of him.

Just as the words left his lips, Lucien’s mind began seeing visions of himself holding his left arm. Blood was seeping through the hand that was holding it. The Werewolf dropped to one knee and squeezed his eyes shut.

The fucking spice.

The bandit smiled and lowered the knife from Imogen’s throat, tossing her aside.

“I could get good money for a blade like that.” He said with a smile.

With a firm kick he knocked Lucien onto his back against the sand. Driving a knife into the Werewolf’s shoulder, the bandit began checking his pockets. The visions ended. Lucien gripped the knife, ripping it out, before driving it vertically into the cannibal’s throat. With swift kick he knocked the dying man over into the sand to bleed out. Imogen let out a soft cry as she ran over to her savior, looking down at him with concern.

What fucking luck is this to have a random bandit using a silver dagger.

Fresh blood spilled through Lucien’s hand as he pressed it against his stab wound. He sat up and let out a long sigh.

“Ar-Ar-Are you o-okay?” She asked, panicking.

“Take a deep breath, Miss Gallant. I’ll be okay.” Lucien reassured her as he hobbled to his feet with one hand.

“Just get me my bag please.”

I will never get used to how much silver fucking burns. It hurts more than the actual puncture wound.

The pain coming from his arm was intense. Holding his arm across his torso, Lucien moved toward the end of the car where they had been eating. He sat down against the rear wheel and grunted in pain. Imogen arrived quickly with his bag.

“T-tell me what to do.” She said nervously.

“There are little cardboard containers that are labeled with the word morphine. Hand me one.”

She rummaged around the bag until she found what he had requested. Thinking ahead she removed the little glass vial from the packaging and handed it to him. Biting off the cap he inserted the needle into his left leg for a moment before discarding the vial.

“There should be a bottle of pills in there. Give me one and then take out one of the medium bandages. It’ll have an Uruk symbol on it.”

Imogen nodded. She looked like she could cry at any moment. Lucien knew she was completely new to the field, and he felt bad that he had to give her a crash course in basic triage. Popping open the pill container she fished one out and handed it to him. The Werewolf picked it up out of her hand and popped it into his mouth, biting the capsule open. The burning sensation dulled a bit, but the wound was still going to have to heal like normal. The woman tore open the packaging to the bandage he had requested and looked at him for instruction.

“Pull apart the two pieces used for tying it together and place the center of the padding to the wound. Wrap the two pieces around my shoulder and tie a knot directly over the wound itself providing the pressure to stem the blood flow. Take your time.”

With a nod the woman moved his hand and pressed the bandage against the stab wound firmly. Taking her other hand, she leaned him forward and fed the ties under his arm and around his shoulder. Tying them tight she formed a knot over the center of the bandage and pulled it tight, making Lucien wince.

“I’m sorry!” She said, her hands snapping back.

“You’re fine, Miss Gallant. That will do.” He said with a smile before resting his head against the hot metal of the car.

***​

Another few hours had passed, and it was beginning to cool off as the sun made its way towards the horizon. It did not matter though. Both were dehydrated. The sound of his phone ringing woke the Werewolf from his slumber. Imogen had fallen asleep next to him, her head resting on his right shoulder. Reaching out, trying not to disturb the slumbering woman, he pulled his bag closer and fished the phone from its pouch. Placing the comm piece to his ear he accepted the call.

“Hello?” He whispered.

“Lucien.” A mans voice spoke.

Malakai. Fuck me.





“Hello, Malakai. How can I help you?”

“How’s Imogen? She better be alive or we’re going to strip you down and leave you in the deep desert to die.”

Lucien rolled his eyes.

“She’s sleeping right now. She is dehydrated and needs water. How far out are you?”

There was a pause.

“We’re five minutes out. We have water and the fuel she requested. Did you run into any trouble?”

Lucien pondered whether to lie to the man.

“It was nothing I couldn’t handle. She’s fine.” He responded.

“Good.” The line clicked dead just as his hearing picked up the sound of engines.

“Miss Gallant.” He said, prodding her in the cheek.

She mumbled something in her sleep before her eyes shot open, letting loose a firm slap to Lucien’s face. The man reeled back hitting his head on the car’s quarter panel. He let out a sigh.

“Oh my god! I’m so sorry!” The warden said holding her hands over her mouth.

“It’s no problem.” He said with a smile, just as a series of vehicles crested the dunes and made their way towards the two stranded passengers.

“Malakai!” Imogen said with excitement as she ran to greet the outriders.

She was greeted by open arms by what appeared to be an older woman. Malakai made his way out from behind the group of vehicles and armed men with a metal container of petrol in his hand. He held out a hand and lifted Lucien to his feet.

“You’re worth a lot of money, Lockwood.” He said placing the fuel down on the ground next to the car.

“I’m a hard man to kill.”

The leader of his old crew pushed the bandage on Lucien’s shoulder aside slightly and grinned.

“Still weak to silver, eh? I still have that revolver just for you.”

“I would prefer that she didn’t know so could you keep your voice down?”

The Werewolf’s gaze fell to Imogen who was graciously drinking a canteen of water brought just for her.

“Why do you care if she knows?” Malakai questioned.

“I don’t want anyone to know.” Lucien shot back, meeting the mans gaze.

The two had been through a lot together. He had spent a good eight months working for Malakai before a fouled job and a mishap with a woman forced him to flee the camp. The leader had placed a significant bounty on his head in return for his fleeting loyalty. That was over a year ago and no one had claimed the bounty yet.

“I can’t remove the bounty, but I can thank you for taking care of our newest member. I knew she wasn’t ready for field work, but Marissa insisted I give her a chance.” Malakai said with a smile.

“Despite our falling out…You’re a good man, Lockwood. It’s unfair that Giselle treated you the way she did. We exiled her shortly after you left, once we found out what really happened.”

Lucien sighed and leaned back against the car.

“So, remind me again why you can’t remove the bounty?” He asked.

“You know the laws out here. A bounty cannot be recalled. It must be claimed. That doesn’t mean I haven’t taken down your wanted posters and misled anyone looking for you.”

“You’re too kind to me, Malakai.” The Werewolf said.

“Yes. Yes I am, but I repay those who help me.” He reached behind his back and pulled out a pouch.

“It’s silver, but I made sure to get a thick leather pouch.”

“Keep it.” Lucien said, pushing the pouch back.

“You sure, Lockwood? Based on your signal I can only assume you’re headed to Uruk. They trade in silver and gold. I’m not giving you gold.”

“I’m sure. I’ll be fine. Thank you for the gas.”

“If you’re not going to take my money, at least take another jerrican.” Malakai beckoned one of his men and he brought over a second can of fuel.

“10 gallons ought to make us even.” He spoke.

“That’s more than enough. Thank you.” Lucien said, shaking Malakai’s hand.

“Be seeing you around, Lockwood.” His former boss said with a smile.

“Alright boys! Let’s get the fuck outta here! Get those savage cars hooked up to the tow rigs.” The Outrider boss yelled.

Imogen made her way back towards Lucien, her face beet red.

“T-thank you again, Mr. Lockwood. I…I…I promise to repay y-you one day.”

She gave him a peck on the cheek before retreating to the safety of the Outrider caravan.

What a day.

***​

Securing everything in the trunk of the car, Lucien had filled up the tank with one of the cans and had stored the spare on the passenger side floor. He had not been on the move long before his phone alerted him with a beep that he had entered the outskirts of Uruk territory. In the distance he could see the city. He had changed the bandage on his arm and tied his last one tightly, covering it with another piece of fabric to keep the sand out. Blood had already seeped through.

Here we go.